


chasing the dream

by Suzume



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, F/M, Gen, Optimism, Original Character(s), Pre-Game(s), Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-05 18:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6716869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzume/pseuds/Suzume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years in the footsteps of the Shepherd Michael.</p>
            </blockquote>





	chasing the dream

 

         Selene came to Camlann because she believed.

 

         For five years, she had followed the Shepherd on and off across the Rolance Empire. She would have followed him for five more. Or ten. Or, perhaps, forever. She had seen the ocean for the first time at his side, had felt her skin parched and dried in the desert wastes, had hiked through the mountains in the midst of torrential rains so heavy she could have sworn she was wet through to her bones. And she would have happily braved their equivalent conditions and trials throughout Hyland if only they would have granted her a border pass (but she was no one, and not seen as worthy of granting passage, so she had remained in Rolance and awaited his return).

         She couldn't say anything she did for Michael or Muse or Lailah was of any particular importance. She couldn't say that she possessed a single skill that either they or one of the Sub Lords or other followers didn't wield to some greater, more impressive degree. She couldn't say she possessed a single useful connection, having barely traveled ten miles before she met them. All Selene had was an unquenchable sense of wonder and optimism. But for all that she had so little to give, the Shepherd Michael had not denied her a place at his side. When he had settled on a form for his dream- when he had chosen the place and collected his followers for one last journey to go and settle there- he had remembered her.

         Selene believed in Michael. She believed in Camlann. Her very being ached with longing for everything it stood for.

 

***

 

         In a sleepy little hamlet outside of Pendrago, when the Shepherd came, Selene, all of fourteen, was sent by the village headman, to go and meet him and offer the Shepherd and his companions the best hospitality Wheat-West (all of fourteen buildings, and that was counting the grain silo) had to offer. What the headman knew was this: the Shepherd was a young man and possessed of incredible powers. Selene was pretty, by the standards of the Rolance countryside, and possessed of the most resonance in the village, a dreamy girl who ate up time speaking with passing Seraphim that she had should have spent working, and an orphan the headman had rescued from the church's well-intentioned, but overcrowded children's home to help him tend his property after the death of his wife. Whatever good will she could wrest from the Shepherd to bless their homes and fields would be a greater good than she had accomplished in her previous decade living in Wheat-West. And if the Shepherd took her, she would not be missed.

         "Shepherd Michael, be welcome," the headman bowed deeply, "And partake of our meager hospitality." Selene was slow to lower her curious gaze from the Shepherd and his companions and the headman tugged her sleeve in a sharp reminder of his commands to her to be gracious and polite to their guests.

         While the headman was stern and impatient as ever, the Shepherd, Selene thought, in that second their eyes had met, had seemed merely amused by her behavior. Through the fall of her hair over her downturned face, she looked at his travel-worn boots and the similar, but daintier, ones of the woman (his Squire?) beside him. Both of them were beautiful. Did they strike her as looking alike because of that light in their eyes? Or might they be related by blood as well?

         "This is Selene," the headman introduced her after several dragging minutes of overwrought pleasantries, "She will see to whatever you desire during your stay."

         "I don't think it will be long," the Shepherd said, "And I don't think I'll desire much. …But," he met Selene's eyes as she looked back up, "I would like to sit down and rest a while in a quiet place."

         "Follow me," she sprang into action and, as the Shepherd and his human companion followed, the first sign of his Seraph company sent a prickling down Selene's spine. A high, gentle woman's voice addressed the Shepherd, advising him to rest if he needed it; not to push himself too hard; that she had never known him to ask for anything that was a hardship for the people he visited. It was a motherly voice, the sort Selene had longed after at lonely points in her childhood. This was as far as Selene's resonance extended- to hear the voices of Seraphim, but not to see them. …Would the Shepherd be able to determine this? Might the motherly-sounding Seraph have a conversation with her? She wouldn't be so forward as to ask for the privilege outright. …Unless perhaps the Shepherd prevailed upon the hospitality of her body…then it might not seem too much to ask…

        

         There were no chairs in Selene's modest quarters, attached to the back of the headman's house. Michael (he told her to call him Michael; that there was no need for titles or pomposity, that it didn't suit such a humble place) and Muse (see was his Squire; she was his younger sister) sat on her bed. In all her wildest imaginings, she had never dreamed that such glorious (yet honestly down-to-earth) personages would grace her chambers. The Shepherd and his Squire, sitting on her handmade patchwork quilt. Their radiant smiles were twins. She wondered what it was like to have a sibling.

         "Is there anything I can get you, Sh- Michael?" she inquired, trying not to fidget with the end of her braid (the headman was always telling her to stop).

         "Some water? …Something to eat would be nice."

         The closest Michael would come to making a request for a particular type of meal was to say that he liked sweets.

         Selene heated water for their guests to wash up a little before they ate. Michael flicked water at one of the Seraphim accompanying him when Selene's back was turned. "Stop that," Muse whispered to her brother.

         Selene drew upon her strengths to bake Michael a fruit tart. He split it with his sister and liked it so much he even licked his fingers.

         Talking with Michael and Muse- who were really very ordinary in most ways and not even that much older than her- was pleasant and enjoyable. They had been places she had barely even heard of and Michael was a skilled storyteller, describing their experiences with aplomb. Muse brushed her hair while they chatted. For all that Michael had spoken of being tired upon arrival, he sat up late talking, and it didn't take long for Selene to feel like she had known him forever. If he had asked for her body, she had begun to think she might not mind giving it.

         As it was however, they wound up sleeping chastely, squeezed tight into her bed, Michael and Muse holding Selene between them. She could sense the vague presence of the Seraphim in and around them. Water, fire, earth, wind, Seraphim, Shepherd, Squire. A complete miniature of the world at balance and Selene at the center of it. She wondered if in all her life she had ever felt so content…

 

         "Is the Shepherd pleased with us?" the headman asked come morning as Selene reluctantly slipped out with the dawn to check for eggs in the henhouse.

         "Y-yes, I think. He's made himself pretty at home here."

         "Good, good. Then he'll incline the Seraphim toward us favorably."

         "I- I imagine," Selene replied, though she couldn't conceive of what kind of special spiritual blessing Wheat-West could require. The yield varied from year to year, but that was only natural. Everyone in the village had enough to eat (if they hadn't, wouldn't she, the outsider, been the very first one to suffer or be sent away?). Wind Seraphim blew through sometimes, ushering in the clouds bearing gentle rains.

         "Good girl, Selene," the headman, never a natural when it came to physical displays of affection, embraced her in an awkward hug.

        

         Michael was awake when she returned, two eggs, sunny side up, simmering atop a bowl of porridge in each hand. "Thank you," he accepted both bowls and looked over his shoulder at his sleeping sister.

         "Should I take one back and keep it warm on the stove for Muse? If you don't want to wake her up yet…"

         "Lady Lailah can keep it warm, I imagine," Michael nonchalantly passed the bowl off to what looked very much like empty air.

         Selene braced herself, not for the rough bowl and her equally rough cooking to fall to the ground, but against the eerie mystery of the item seemingly floating, held in the hand of an invisible Seraph.

         "I can, Michael, but if I have to hold onto Muse's breakfast too long I might be tempted to eat it myself!"

         Selene smiled, putting a name to the warm voice she had heard the day before. Lailah. A Seraph all so at home with Muse and Michael.

         Michael took a bite of his breakfast and then wiped his damp lips with the back of his hand, resuming his almost rakish air. "Can you see Lailah? Or can you only hear her?"

         "How do you know I can hear her?"

         "If you didn't see or hear anything, I hardly think you'd be retaining your composure so impressively," he chuckled and settled back into his breakfast, savoring several more bites before patting the open space beside him, encouraging Selene to sit. "Your natural resonance is pretty impressive. You must live a completely different life than everyone else in the village because of it."

         "I suppose I might." Certainly Selene saw things that eluded the rest of the villagers, but she wasn't sure she had the accumulated experience to judge whether it made her life all that different or not. "Mostly people just think I'm a daydreamer."

         "What you have is a good thing," Michael insisted, "A leftover remnant of a more united world. And…seeing what evidence I have of earlier ages through my travels and the stories I've heard from Mayvin and Lailah that suggest that all of history is cyclical, you could also consider it a forerunner of a more better, more united future where Seraphim and humans communicate freely again."

         Selene shook her head. She hated to topple the pretty set of words Michael had spun for her, but it wasn't right to act like she understood what he was talking about when most of it was beyond her. "I- I'm not sure I understand, Michael."

         "Just consider it like this then, Selene," he softly laid his fingers on her cheek and guided her face back up toward his lavender gaze, "Your resonance is a gift."

         The magic of the moment lingered, a two-person-sized age of harmony, dissipating peacefully as Muse awoke and accepted her still-hot breakfast. "And I thought the two of you were hitting it off last night…!"

         "You know that the twenty minutes you sleep in longer than I do are the twenty minutes I make the most headway in all of my deepest and most meaningful relationships!" Michael teased.

         "All of them?"

         "Even with you- think how perfectly we get along when you're sleeping!"

         They were the Shepherd and his Squire, but they fell to laughing and shoving one another like any other pair of happy siblings.

         Selene was young. She wondered if she was a little bit in love with both of them. In any case, though she had been exposed to only the slightest hint of it, she found she believed already, deeply, in their dream.

        

 

         "Selene's coming with us," Michael told the headman in his most definitive, commanding tone, hands set on his hips.

         "Michael!" Muse burst out in surprise.

         "Th-that is," Michael turned to look at Selene, "If she wants to."

 

***

 

         The further word of the Shepherd said, the more people sought him out on their own. Some were merely curious; others brought pleas for assistance to deal with various unhappinesses of the people and the land.

         Michael mediated disputes. He built bridges, both literal and figurative. He purified Hellions. In all of these things, Muse aided him.

         Selene carried some of their supplies. She honed her ability to cook with just a skillet over a campfire. She darned their socks.

         At times the burden of the Shepherd seemed to hang heavily on Michael, but Selene did her best to follow in Muse's footsteps, supporting him however she was able. Muse was amazing- for all that Michael's powers tended to steal the show in front of people meeting them for the first time, Muse's sure strength was a pillar. Through her contract as a Squire she could purify Hellions on her own (when Selene could do little more than cower and hide, readying gels and bandages in case she was injured in battle), she was largely self-taught in a swift and furious style of staff-wielding, and she could find edible plants in almost any environment.

         Muse never showed any jealousy either at the way Michael was frequently admired and adored (nor even when she seemed to return some of those affections).

         Selene had never thought herself so special as to be one of a kind, but when Michael gained other followers, as kind and interesting as they might be, and for all the additional useful skills they added to the traveling party, she couldn't help but find herself feeling…not quite jealous, she hoped, but a bit lost in the crowd? At least as far as Michael was concerned. His attention to Muse never faltered, and, obviously, not to the Seraphim either, but when it came to other humans, his attentions fluttered about like a butterfly intent on casually sampling every different type flower in a decadent garden.

         Muse always remembered her though, offering her tips on flavoring the stew she cooked and helping her deal with her cycle when her bleeding came on suddenly in the midst of traversing a lonely swamp.

         Muse was the one who initiated the real beginning of her relationship with Galahd, a follower of the Shepherd from Pendrago (though they had met him far to the north while separated from the road by a heavy fall of snow). By the time it was clear that Galahd was intent on following Michael's steps, they were a large enough group even without counting the Seraphim, that Selene, who found herself somewhat irrationally afraid of the pelt-wearing hunter and his thick, black beard, was able to avoid much direct interaction with him. This, Muse assured Selene, was a mistake.

         Back in the lower portions of the empire, Galahd shed his furs and shaved his beard, and though he still served Michael mainly through his trail-finding, tracking, and fighting skills, he was rendered slightly less intimidating in Selene's eyes.

         "Selene, you've turned sixteen recently, haven't you?" Muse prompted.

         "You know that Muse, you made me this bracelet as a gift," Selene replied, raising her arm to let her sleeve droop back and reveal the lovely item in question made of a mixture of green glass beads and carved wooden ones.

         "Well, you know, Galahd is only nineteen."

         "O-oh, I'd thought you were much older," Selene flushed slightly, glancing at and quickly away from, the man in question.

         "Aah, the beard!" Galahd shook his head, running his hand through his dark, wavy hair, "I should've known that was what made you so jumpy."

         "You looked like a bear," Selene admitted, staring at her feet.

         "I just thought he looked like a mountain man," Muse said.

         "Honestly," Galahd laughed, "Bear or mountain man- I lived up there for nine years and I can't say there's a whole lot of difference!"

 

***

 

         There was much for Michael to do and see within the borders of the vast Rolance Empire and the sparsely inhibited lands beyond them that Rolance might want to claim in name, but didn't necessary hold in truth, but the goals of the Shepherd were grander than just Rolance.

         Michael and Muse, Selene knew, had trod some paths in the burgeoning Hyland Kingdom in the years Michael had served as Shepherd before they met her, but she had never thought about what might happen if there were disquieting rumors that drew their attention back. There was tension between Hyland and Rolance and that border was guarded and watched strictly. Rolance would not let just anyone in and so Hyland had followed their lead and decreed the same.

         Obviously, the Shepherd and his Squire would be welcomed in any land, but the same did not go for every person that followed him. But Muse led the six dedicated human followers her brother had gained in filling out all the proper paperwork to be granted border passes and everyone settled in to the inn in Lastonbell and waited while the gears of bureaucracy turned slowly. One by one, travel passes were granted to Astella, the medicine maker, Naveen, the scriptural scholar, Luisa, the cloth merchant, and Ahmed, the painter. And two applications for passage returned denied.

         At the gates of Lastonbell, Selene was left alone with Galahd, both of them deemed two humble, perhaps, or unnecessary to the Shepherd's cause, to be allowed to accompany him into Hyland.

         "We won't forget you," Muse promised, gripping Selene's hands in her own.

         "When we return to Rolance, my first act will be to come back for you," agreed Michael.

         Everyone wished them the best of luck, but, at last, of course, they headed out into Volgran Forest, escorted by a company of Hyland soldiers, proud to escort the glorious Shepherd and his Squire.

 

         "How long do you think it will be before they come back?" Selene asked Galahd as they watched the friendly backs and foreign banners disappearing before them.

         "I don't know," said Galahd, who claimed ignorance of many things and didn't care to speculate much on the future, but at least he was honest. "A long time, maybe. But I really hope not." He reached over and clasped Selene's hand.

 

         They stayed over again at the inn that night and the night after that, but even in the smallest room, eating the cheapest meals, it was obvious the funds that Michael had left them with wouldn't last long. If he had been allowed into the forest, Galahd thought he might have been able to apply some of his hunting know-how to this new environment, but the guards were too concerned about illicit border crossings to let them out.

         Compared to during their travels with Michael, hanging about Lastonbell there was almost nothing for them to do and their days stretched out long and boring as they conserved their gald, wandering the market and the street between the various artists' ateliers without buying.

         With no one other companions, they talked more to each other. It was nice to have someone who shared the same general dream at least, who understood Michael on a deeper leverage than the average citizen who had only heard of or seen him in passing. Galahd was strong, but it turned out he was also funny. He could make animal calls and shadow puppets. "For years I was the only kid at the hunters' camp," he said, "I spent a lot of time coming up with ways to entertain myself."

         As the weather was fairly clement and predictable at this time of year (Galahd, used to the mountains' treachery, was forever exclaiming over its mildness), they took to camping outside on the Meadow of Triumph.

         The circumstances of the two of them outside by themselves felt strangely isolated after the pleasant sense of community provided by Michael's group. At least the generic company provided by their fellow travelers staying at the inn had been able to superficially fill the silences.

         Galahd liked to fold his arms behind his head and look up at the stars. "I guess we're going to have find work soon. We're not going to be able to keep living like this forever."

         "I've never had to actually _look_ for a job before. I just worked where I lived. I'm a little worried that there isn't anything I can do."

         "Unfamiliar as it might be to try and find work, I've seen for myself that you have lots of skills," Galahd turned to look at her. "Also, you're beautiful. I think that usually helps."

         "Beautiful?" Selene felt her face beginning to burn up, but didn't look away.

         "Well," Galahd hedged, "In my opinion, anyway."

         Selene suddenly recognized the brushing of grass against her fingers as the blades parting to accommodate Galahd's hand reaching for her own. She shifted her hand closer, allowing it to fall into his.

         "Do you think I'll ever get a chance to kiss someone so beautiful?" Galahd asked.

         "Michael might oblige you if you'd ask," Selene suggested, laughing so soon as to possibly obscure the words leaving her mouth. But it was fine to tease, wasn't it, if she also leaned over and kissed him?

         Galahd kissed her back, deeper, more expertly, and rolled her over, back into the grass. "I've wanted to do this for a long time," he murmured, crumpling the fabric of her tunic as he ran his fingers along the length of his body, "Tell me if I go too far."

         Galahd stirred something in her, warm and wanting. She found no reason to tell him to stop.

 

***

 

         Almost ten months passed before Michael returned to Rolance, but he was as good as his word. "I had to ask around a bit, so I can't say you were the first person I spoke to after crossing the border, but this _is_ the first time I've sat down since returning the empire," Michael chatted with Selene as easily as if they had never been separated in the first place.

         "He made a point of it even," Lailah joined in, "He was really trying hard to make sure he had some kind of first with you when he got back."

         "Michael…" The passage of time had dulled the ache, and Galahd had been excellent company, but all of the sudden Selene was overcome with emotion toward Michael and Muse and felt her eyes well up with tears.

         Muse put her arms around Selene. "It just wasn't the same without you."

         "Galahd either." Michael looked around the tiny, two-room apartment. "…Where is he, anyway?"

         "He's, um, probably on duty right now," Selene spoke up, breaking slowly out of Muse's arms, "It, um, well, eventually we got to the point where we had to find work to support our staying here. Since I don't have too many salable skills, Galahd's done most of the heavy lifting. …He wound up joining the army…"

         She had been worried what Michael's response to this choice might be, but now that the moment of truth had arrived, he actually seemed somewhat impressed.

         When Galahd arrived home that evening, he was initially startled by the unfamiliar folk (some of them Hyland citizens) encamped outside his home and hanging their laundry from the awning of his porch, but at the sight of Michael and Muse he seemed just as thrilled as Selene had been. "I can hardly believe how long it's been!"

         "You didn't give up on us, did you, Galahd?" Michael smirked.

         "Of course not!"

         There was all sorts of catching up to do, though Selene hardly thought the events on her end of things merited much discussing (Galahd enlisted; I got a job doing the wash for the innkeeper; we rented this room; we waited), and introductions to the new additions to Michael's following (and, apparently, this time the border crossing hadn't forced them to leave anyone behind- though one of the newly accompanying women had a small child who had technically been smuggled through).

         Selene was proud to provide what little hospitality she could manage for so many, in such a small space and with such a meager budget, but obviously the Shepherd and his group had no intention of staying in Lastonbell permanently.

         "There's a place I've found," Michael explained to her, sitting up alone that night after the rest of the company had gone to sleep, "And after- well, there's one last thing I need to do in Pendrago. After that, I plan to start up a new village there."

         "Humans and Seraphim?" Selene wondered- the outline of that better future Michael had first intimated to her when they first met.

         "Humans and Seraphim," he agreed. "…And I hope that you'll be among the ones who go there with me."

         Was there really any chance she would give him a different answer? "I would follow you anywhere, Michael," she promised, "Of course!"

 

         Galahd was able to secure himself a spot on the road patrol that would allow him to accompany the group to Pendrago, but after a few days there, he was inevitably expected to turn back to Lastonbell.

         He didn't so much as suggest that Selene leave Michael to return with him (though he did joke a bit that, "People are going to ask me what happened to my wife," because that was what most neighbors believed they were for all that they had never told anyone that), and Michael was clearly happy to have Selene back at his side (and to have Michael smile at her like that, she felt as enraptured and special as the first day they had met), but after the months they had spent in one another's company, it was strange to separate.

 

         Michael's business in Pendrago didn't resolve as quickly as the ease of his speaking of it in Lastonbell had suggested to Selene.

         Their stay in the capitol dragged on. Selene saw her foster-father, the headman of Wheat-West, in the market one morning and, feeling self-conscious, ducked around the corner of a shop before he could see her.

         Galahd came by when he could and sometimes other soldiers accompanied him to talk to Michael, or even simply to lay eyes on him. Whatever stories of the Shepherd had reached them through the rumor mill were clearly enhanced by Galahd's own vehement personal testament regarding the Shepherd's powers and charisma.

         Whatever plan Michael had in mind, he only discussed its specifics with Muse and the Seraphim. Sometimes Selene was able to overhear snippets of the Seraphim's remarks to him, but they didn't resolve into anything she could wholly understand. Just that it was something about Maotelus, the powerful Seraph enshrined at the grand church here. Selene guessed that some of the problems might have been rooted in the church hierarchy restricting direct access to this Seraph. But…if they would make an exception for anyone, shouldn't that exception be Michael?

 

         They had been in Pendrago nearly five months when Muse woke Selene from her sleep in the darkest depths of the night. "Selene, it's done. It's time for us to go."

        

         She had never quite understood that expression 'like a thief in the night' until, stumbling along, in an unlucky combination of sleep and haste, she learned what it was that had motivated their abrupt departure.

         "I've taken Maotelus," Michael whispered to her as they paused to catch their breaths and regroup with the dawn.

         "O-oh-" So that was the new presence she felt about him.

         "It's so much power." Michael's voice was as awed as her own. "Enshrined in a new place, with us around to worship him properly, he will surely be able to grant the land a purer and grander blessing."

 

         Michael was too concerned to enter any other towns or cities before he had brought Maotelus to his new shrine. Various followers struck out to acquire the necessary supplies to establish the first foundation of the new village.

         As if Michael hadn't been lovely and wonderful enough before, either the new bond forged between Maotelus and himself or the sheer glow of success it cast upon him seemed to make him even more radiant. If the love Selene felt toward Galahd was like a dancing campfire keeping you warm in the night or a well-tended hearth in a happy home, the love that Michael inspired in her…could it be more like a pyre she would throw herself into willingly?

         Almost any of the followers would have been pleased beyond measure to become Michael's special woman or man, but though there were various intimacies exchanged between many of them, Michael said he could not afford to be so thoroughly wrapped up in any one person that way (Galahd and some of the others thought that he already was too wrapped up like that- in Muse, who was pregnant and had never said publicly who the father was), that this was the compromise he had settled upon between celibacy and too intense a commitment in any one person.

         Even though Selene knew that Michael relied upon others far more than her, she didn't feel that made their relationship any less meaningful.

         Ground was broken for his new village - Camlann.

         Galahd was back in Lastonbell at the time and, at first, Selene was disappointed he was missing out on such a historic moment- to say nothing of their uproarious party- but as the night wore on and Selene found herself alone with Michael, sitting on his bedroll in the midst of the timber skeleton of his future house, she was glad not to have to worry about his intruding, however good his intentions.

         "You were my first follower," Michael said, "And no matter how Camlann grows and thrives, no one else can ever take that place from you."

         "I'm so happy, Michael," she took his hand.

         "Thank you, Selene."

         Michael leaned his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes. It made Selene glad to think that Michael, who carried such heavy burdens, could relax with her; that he trusted her enough to let her see him like this.

         Every time she began to feel that too much time and space were stretched out between them, Michael reached out and let her see that even if things changed, he never forgot.

         "You aren't the skinny little twig you were when we first met," Michael said, opening his eyes, "But I guess we've all gotten older since then."

         "Not everything changes though."

         "No," he agreed, "I think you still love me."

         Selene felt her face burn (had it always been so obvious? To everyone or just to Michael?). "I do," she answered. It was true. She hated to lie to anyone- and she had never been much good at it, anyway- but it would be a particularly unhappy thing to lie to Michael.

         "Selene." He sounded so sincere. He wielded her name like a ritual incantation. "I love you too."

 

         Being with Michael was the most unique and intense intimacy she had ever experienced. Kissing, whispering, his hands over her body- those were all of and like Michael, clever and thoughtful and kind- but when he was inside her, Selene found herself in contact with more than simply Michael. This must, she thought, be a tiny fragment of what it was like to be a vessel for all those Seraphim bound to him.

         He was like water, he was like fire, he was like wind, he was like earth. There was Lailah's gentle caress, Izkar's speedy action, Maotelus's sheer power… They were with her and in her.

         It seemed a bit blasphemous to suggest something so physically fulfilling was a sort of religious experience, but…to be brought closer to the Seraphim like that…it was a kind of spiritual communion too, wasn't it?

 

         Nothing really changed. Michael continued to share himself (his goodness) with all of Camlann as the village took shape. He largely kept his own counsel, but Selene often saw him with Muse and his new nephew and occasionally she heard snatches of conversation with those mysterious Seraphim (the only one she ever felt she truly recognized from her speech alone was Lailah).

         Everyone in Camlann looked to the future with eyes bright with hope. Michael, who often dropped by her home to visit when he felt like taking a break from the records he was writing in the company of someone who didn't live with him, teased her that despite all this forward-thinking she was still the most optimistic of them all.

         It didn't seem likely it had been anyone back in Wheat-West who had taught Selene to be optimistic, to be friendly, to be open. Theirs had been a village of cautious optimists, who didn't open their doors or hearts to just anyone (they had been stingy about paying the official wheat tax even as they tilled fertile land nearly on the emperor's doorstep). Selene had come to believe that this generosity of emotion and hopeful looking toward the future were just part of her nature (Muse thought, as far Camlann's particular cause was concerned, her higher than average degree of resonance helped).

 

         When Galahd arrived as part of the advance force of Rolance's army, motivated supposedly out of defensive concerns, described even as being for Camlann's own sake, Michael addressed him derisively, as though his work as a soldier was suddenly a betrayal, when before Galahd had been held up as a positive example of one able to respect the Shepherd and Seraphim while living at the same time in the midst of the larger human society.

         Galahd was hurt, but he had his orders. He couldn't just turn around and leave even if he wanted to (no single soldier could, unless he wished to face imprisonment or some other punishment).

         Selene understood why the army's presence would put Michael on edge, but at the same time she was sympathetic to Galahd. She tried to make up for the nervous glances of the other villagers (particularly sharp among those who had never traveled alongside Galahd before his enlistment) and Michael's anger with the best hospitality she could manage. She cooked for the men and shared the drink that they offered her.

         It was all too easy, sitting with the soldiers after their meal, to rest in Galahd's arms, just like before. To drink a glass too much and watch the campfire go blurry around the edges. Not to brush Galahd's hand out of her blouse, but to stroke her palm across his chest in return.

         "I may not be so welcome in Camlann as far as Michael is concerned," Galahd murmured into her hair, "But I'm glad I'm still welcome with you."

         "All of you are welcome with me," her words slurred a bit from the liquor, "As long as you've come peacefully."

         "Let's take this into your house, huh?" Galahd scooped her up (he was stronger than she remembered, tempered by his tenure as a soldier) like a bride, carrying her through the back door of her home. Selene wrapped her arms around him, breathing warmly against his taut neck.

         Galahd nodded back at his comrades. One of them poured a bucket over the fire, extinguishing it with a snake-like hiss. They followed Galahd inside. Selene didn't mind- she was happy to extend her hospitality. She had never had a roof of her own to offer before Camlann.

         Galahd laid her on the bed. Selene hadn't realized she'd missed him so much.

 

         The advance forces shuffled in and out of her home for several days. For all that she meant it as a gift, Selene eventually wound up accepting some of their gald as a reimbursement for the meals she had fed them. "But only for the food," she insisted shyly, "Because it can cost a bit to get things out here. Camlann's- and my- hospitality is meant to be free."

         "You're a better hostess than most, Selene," Galahd laced his fingers through her own.

 

         They were half-clothed and in the throes of passion when Michael showed up and banged on the window.

         "As long as you're a member of that army, you're no longer fit to mix with us," he ordered Galahd out.

         "Isn't the Shepherd meant to be magnanimous?" Galahd threw up his hands in disgust, "Haven't I done plenty of things to show you my sincerity over the years? You snatch that Seraph out of Pendrago and all of the sudden you become a little tyrant?"

         "Get out," Michael snapped, unmoved.

         "Michael-" Lailah's voice quavered with concern.

         "And if you tell anyone about Maotelus-" he went on.

         "Please, Michael," Selene folded her hands in supplication.

         With a heavy sigh, he folded to the women's pleas. He didn't leave for his own house though until Galahd was out of sight.

 

         Michael never spoke afterward like Selene was at fault, but as tensions mounted with further troops arriving and even, eventually, a grand, armored general, she felt somehow guilty.

         Michael grew too busy to talk to her as much and Muse's attention had been, understandably, largely captured by her son in the months since his birth.

         She began to miss Galahd more than ever. Compared to the Shepherd, he was plain and ordinary in most ways, but he was also good and devoted. He was dependable and even-keeled in a manner that hadn't stood out to her until Michael began to show a more tempestuous side of himself as he attempted to deal with the growing military pressure.

 

***

 

         There was no real doctor in Camlann, nor an official midwife. Selene and another of the female villagers had helped Muse through her (thankfully untroubled) delivery.

         Selene began to wonder when her cycle didn't come (though it hadn't always), but she didn't want to share false good news with her fellow villagers, and so she chose to wait and see, to be surer.

         The baby could have been Michael's (but even if it was, it would be wrong to use that as a reason to claim him); the baby could have been Galahd's (and, much as she cared for Galahd, Selene wasn't sure she'd want to tell him so- he would insist that they returned to Rolance proper and wed and forge a more secure sort of life for the baby because, sure, he could sleep with Michael and other members of the community and remain more or less one of Michael's followers even as he served as an imperial soldier, but as soon as something involved her he always wound up turning so traditional); the baby could have been that of one of Galahd's soldiering comrades (she wasn't sure it made a difference in Camlann, but in most parts of the continent, this would nothing to be proud of).

         But this uncertainty did not cause Selene much worry. Her child could grow and thrive without a father. They would have her and the support of the entire Camlann community (and maybe even the friendship of Muse's son one day).

         …Yet if she weren't somehow concerned, why did she feel uncomfortable with the idea of telling Muse about the child forming inside her? Why did she decide, despite Michael's kindness toward little Mikleo and his definitive description of his nephew as a blessing, that telling him might only burden him further rather than provide a spot of blue sky in the midst of storm clouds?

         It was, perhaps, because the future of Camlann was suddenly seeming less of a sure thing by the day. Selene's trust in being able to give her child a better life was, if not fully contingent on Camlann's continued existence, firmly bolstered by it. When the situation with General Heldalf resolved itself, surely things would become cleared.

 

         She had balked at first at the idea of telling Galahd and his asking her to return with him to Lastonbell, but despite her desire to remain in Camlann, at least the notion of sharing the news and being able to talk it over with him seemed like less and less of a bad idea.

         …Michael might have wanted the soldiers to stay out of the village, but, Selene hoped, he couldn't get too upset if _she_ walked out past Camlann's borders to talk to Galahd.

 

         Selene had just started on her way along the footpath when the everything went wrong.

 

         The sky turned black and she felt her head ring so painfully at some Seraph's screaming she thought her skull might burst.

         And the baby was coming. It was early. Too, too early.

         So much pain. No help in sight.

 

         When Selene died in Camlann, collapsed along the footpath, not knowing whether or not her baby had ever breathed, she still believed. Maybe not in Camlann, maybe not in Michael, but in the dream that had lived inside her for the last five years- of a better world; of humans and Seraphim there together.


End file.
